


The Weird Upside of Being Hypnotized in Bed

by NickelModelTales



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dinner Party, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hypnotism, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Porn With Plot, Reporter, Romance, Shameless Smut, Submission, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 06:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17279075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NickelModelTales/pseuds/NickelModelTales
Summary: Women being hypnotized into submissive sex… wait, is that seriously a thing now?  An investigative journalist is determined to find out.





	1. Chapter 1

***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves women becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

 

 

**_Boston, March 2017_ **

My fingers hover the keys, waiting for brilliance.  I scrunch my nose, let my mind go blank for a moment, then write:

**_Marah Fellows is 28, a graduate of Berkeley.  She’s tall, pretty, with a great sense of style and a quick sense of humor.  Spending just a few minutes in this young woman’s presence is to know her self-confidence and high hopes for the future._ **

**_And yet, Marah has elected to become a “sugar baby,” one of a growing number of young but underaccomplished women who has decided to attach herself to a wealthy – and married – older man.  It is a phenomenon that is becoming all too common in America’s most populous cities.  In this year alone_ **

I hesitate, frowning a little.  Damn.  The words from my brain have shut off.  I pause, taking a sip of my extra Venti Caramel Brulée Frappuccino, which is a good stall tactic.

 _Come on, Susan,_ I think to myself.  _Just bang this article out, and you’re off for the rest of today._

Okay.  Fingers back to the keyboard.

I hesitate, delete a little, then write:

**_It is a phenomenon becoming common in America’s largest cities.  In the past six months alone, the number of_ **

Ugh.  No.

I grimace, so annoyed with myself.  What the hell?  I have all the research done.  My sources are verified, my interviews are transcribed, and Shelia my editor is expecting this draft before 5 PM.  All I have to do is turn on the brilliance and sew this bitch together.  Three hours of writing, one hour of editing, and then **_Click!_**   I submit and move on.

My fingers float over the keys once more… and…

Nothing.

**_Fuck me…!_ **

I sip the Frappuccino again, then open Minesweeper.  It’s the oldest, dumbest computer game on the planet, but… eh, I just don’t care.  My brain doesn’t want to write today.

I clear a Minesweeper level in two minutes, fourteen seconds.  Then I begin a new game, and my ears begin wandering around the Starbucks.  A middle-aged woman to my left is complaining about her husband to her bored friend.  A trio of skater dudes are flipping through pictures on a smartphone.  Outside on the street, two men are yelling at each other, fighting for a parking space.  The in-store Musak switches from Nat King Cole to something instrumental.

I crush another Minesweeper level and immediately start a third game.  My brain **_really_** doesn’t want to write today.

I sigh.  I like being an independent journalist, because it means I pick my own topics and I’m my own boss.  And Shelia is a good editor to work for.  As long as my stories are 2,000 words and have a little sex in them, she’ll publish my work.

But at times like this… I wonder if I wouldn’t be better going back to a staff job at the Chronicle?  There, I’ll write like a slave and be forever competing against colleagues… but at least there I would have an editor breathing down my neck and **_forcing_** the work out.  No-one slacks off at the Chronicle.  I remember that well.

Another Minesweeper cleared.  Two minutes, forty-seven seconds.  Damn, that bad?  I start another game.

Maybe the real problem is… I don’t want to write anymore.  I’ve done the girl reporter thing for nearly ten years now.

At the table behind me, I hear chairs scrape the floor as two people sit down.  They’re women, young women.

“…and I just **_did_** it,” the first of them is saying.

“Oh my God,” the second responds, sounding alarmed.  “You mean, you **_wanted_** to, right?”

“No,” insisted the first woman.  “I did it because I had no choice.  Like, I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to.”

“Fuck me,” the second woman says.  “Tina, how the hell do you get yourself into these situations?”

I absently listen to the conversation behind me.  Damn!  I just lost a game.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Tina confesses.

There is some minor scuffling as both women arrange coats, purses, bags, and deluxe coffees at their little table.

“The thing is…” Tina resumes, searching for words, “I think I might have secretly wanted to be his slave.”  Pause.  “Does that make sense?”

 ** _Slave?_**   My complete attention now zooms to the two ladies.

“None,” the other woman says firmly.  “None at all.”

“Sorry, Kiko, I don’t know how else to explain it,” Tina says nonchalantly.

“Let me get this straight,” says Kiko, sounding annoyed.  “You’re dating Ben, you like him, things are going great.”

“Yep.”

“Then, during that big snowstorm, he’s stuck at your apartment, and your Internet goes down.  You’re bored and tired of fucking.  So then he says, ‘Let me hypnotize you.’  And you let him?”

“Yeah,” replies Tina.

Hypnosis?  Huh.  I’m listening even more intently now.

“Okay,” Kiko continues, still disgruntled.  “So he puts you in a trance or whatever, and then… you guys have sex again-“

“ ** _Mind-blowing_** sex,” Tina interrupts.

“Well **_of course_** it was mind-blowing, you dumb fool,” her friend grumbles.  “You were hypnotized!  He probably told you that he had a three-foot cock.”

Tina doesn’t argue that point.

“So you guys knock boots while you’re under his voodoo,” Kiko says.  “And its super-wonderful or whatever.”

“Yeah.”

“But then, after that, you start giving him blow jobs all the time, like **_constantly_**.  Whenever you see him.  At his place, at your place, in taxis, at the movies, right?”

“Right,” Tina says, sounding embarrassed.

“You also just start calling him ‘master’ in the bedroom, and being all super-submissive to him, right?  And in return, you are having these massive, explosive, Ten-Point-Oh-on-the-Richter-Scale orgasms?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ, girl!” Kiko hisses, dropping her voice low.  “What the fuck is the matter with you?”

Tina sips her drink before responding.  “At first, I didn’t realize he was still hypnotizing me.  But then…  I dunno, I was servicing him at his office-“

“At his **_office?_** ” groans Kiko.

“-and I realized, ‘there’s something weird about this,’ right?” says Tina.  “So I asked him, ‘Are you still hypnotizing me?’  And he said ‘Yes.’  At first, I was pissed.”

“Uh-huh,” her friend grunts.

“But here’s the thing…” Tina says.  “While I was hypnotized or whatever, I was so happy.  Besides, he never commanded me to do anything I wouldn’t do normally.”

“Seriously?” deadpans Kiko.

Tina sips her coffee.  “Harry was my beau before Ben,” she continues.  “I would also blow Harry in public when we thought others weren’t looking.  Secret, public oral is hot.  And with Jon, I would let him handcuff me sometimes.  So the hypnosis thing actually isn’t that big a deal.”

“You were calling him ‘master’ while sucking his cock,” Kiko says, unmoved.  “You allowed him to address you as ‘slave.’  And he was doing things to your brain without your consent.  That’s rape.”

I am so hooked on this conversation, I hardly notice when I blow three Minesweeper games in a row.

“Its not rape,” Tina says contemptuously.

“It is,” insists Kiko.

“When I first figured out that Ben was hypnotizing me all the time,” Tina continues, “I got online.  Turns out this hypnotized-into-sex stuff is a thing.  Like, there’s a bunch of women out there having sex with guys that have hypnotized them.”

Kiko makes a gagging noise.

“There’s also a lot of men hypnotized into having sex with women,” says Tina, “but I’m not sure that’s the same thing.  And some of the women who are telling their hypnosis stories have gone through some **_really_** scary shit.  Trafficking, brainwashing, worse.  I was really upset to read those stories.”

A pause.

“But a lot of other women talked about the weird upside of being hypnotized in bed.  I read what they had to say, thought about it, and decided I’d let Ben keep doing it to me.  For now.”

“I don’t get you,” Kiko says plainly.

“What you’re not getting,” Tina counters, “is that an orgasm under hypnosis is…”  She lets out a long, trembling breath.  “Well, its fucking bonkers.  I’ve never, never, ever had such amazing O’s in my life.”

“ _Phft_ , sure,” Kiko scoffs.

I’m dumbfounded.  As I’m listening, I open Google and start searching for “hypnosis sex orgasm dating consensual.”

“You don’t know,” argues Tina, and now she sounds stern.  “Like, you have no idea, Kiko.  My O’s are **_phenomenal_**.  And yes, its because of the hypnosis.  Once he told me that if he snapped his fingers while we were boning, I’d fucking **_explode_** with pleasure.  And you know what?”

“I’m not hearing this…” says Kiko in a sing-song voice.

“I **_did_** fucking explode with pleasure,” Tina says in wonder.  She sighs.  “I still think about that one.”

My Google search is pulling up a lot of porn links and sex classifieds, nothing I can privately look at here in Starbucks.  I bookmark the search.

So now I’m dying to turn around, give Tina my card, and ask if I can interview her, girl-to-girl, about being hypnotized for sex.  I know a meaty topic when I hear one, and this one is sick and weird and sexy enough to get Shelia’s attention, easy.

“Let me ask you something,” Kiko says crossly.  “When was the last time Ben hypnotized you?”

“Two nights ago.”

“Okay.  **_Now…_**   Did you want him to hypnotize you?  Or did he just do it to you without your permission?”

Tina doesn’t reply.

“I can’t talk about this,” snaps Kiko, her frustration boiling over.  “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

The two friends gather their belongings and exit out the side.  I never once get a look at either of them.

******

I spend the evening with the TV on but cruising the Web on my laptop.  This is my favorite way to begin a new story; I binge-surf, lapping up as much information as I can.  I want to see if this hypnotized-for-sex story has legs.

Its hard to say.  A shitload of the links I find are basically porn.  There’s some stage hypnotists, posting “information,” but really just trying to drum up their next gig.  There’s also a lot of YouTube videos featuring pretty young women hypnotized to do sexy things on camera.  Here’s a video of three Brazilian soccer players who, once mesmerized, strip down to sexy lingerie while in the middle of Pelourinho Square, somewhere in Brazil.

Ick.  I can’t imagine letting a hypnotist do that to me.  The only men who will see my boobs or my underwear are my boyfriend… when I get one… and my doctor.

Amid all the sleazy trash online, I am finding some nuggets of real possibility.  For example:  Here’s a chick in Memphis who runs her own YouTube channel.  She agreed to be hypnotized by this guy named Tony Plaaz, who then imprisoned her and made her a sex slave.  She escaped and crushed him in a massive civil suit.  Good for her.  Ah, here’s a former mud wrestler who claims she was the widow of Charles Wilson Oakwater III, multi-billionaire and pervert.  She was hypnotized by her greedy in-laws, and then turned into a mesmerized plaything for… ewwww… the guy who was technically her stepson.  Fucking gross!

Moving on…  Here’s an LA yoga instructor who let her boyfriend hypnotize her once for laughs.  Until she realized she was becoming way too submissive to him in bed.  He was hypnotizing her again and again and making her forget about it.  Okay.  Here’s a call girl in Chicago who blogs about her favorite client, a rich guy who can only screw her when she’s under hypnosis.  She claims she loves it.

And then, I stumble across the TrancedGirlfriend blog, a public blog that is set up just for women being hypnotized for sex.  **_Jackpot!_**   I read the first thirty-some entries, and I’m encouraged.

Consider “Jenny” from Savannah, GA:  **_I got hypnotized on a dare by my girlfriend.  The hypnotist was a mutual friend.  While under, he hypnotized me to think that he had the world’s sexiest ass.  Later, I still thought he had a cute ass, so I made a pass at him.  So glad I did!  Now I cum three times a week when he says my trigger words.  So hot._**

Wow.  I might go for that, to be honest.

A chick in Seattle writes:  **_My guy would get hard in vampire movies when the female victim went into a trance.  I joked he couldn’t hypnotize a baby, and he took an online course.  The first time he put me under, I totally thought he was John Legend, and I nearly shit myself.  Now I can’t fuck him unless he’s hypno’ed me and I’m convinced he is JL._**

Some are darker.  Lola in Kansas City:  **_Help me.  My boyfriend’s friend Ron forced me into hypnosis.  Now I have to sleep with Ron and I can’t tell my boyfriend.  I’m under a spell I can’t break._**

Youch.

Other entries are just plain weird.  Jenna in “Outer Civilization,” wherever that is:  **_I am so into being hypnotized by my amazing neighbor he has an amazing cock o my god you guys he shows it to me and I go into sleep for him like I am his slave and I let him come in my up the butt he is fucking me now oh yes_**

I guess when you’re live-blogging while doing anal, you don’t pause for things like punctuation or making sense.  I’m not sure Jenna is serious.

All of these women have a few things in common.  Obviously, they were all hypnotized by a man who wanted to get into their pants.  Once in his power, they obliged.  And while some loved the experience and many felt violated, **_all of them_** report incredible orgasms while boning their hypnotist.

What’s more, it strikes me that these women insist their wonder-orgasms are like nothing they’ve ever felt before.  “ ** _Mind-blowing_** ” is the phrase they mostly use.  “ ** _Amazing_** ,” “ ** _un-fucking-believable_** ,” “ ** _awesome_** ,” and “ ** _beyond incredible_** ” are also commonly-used phrases.

Megan from Phoenix, AZ claims, “ ** _when I came, I literally lost my body and mind to an epic tidal wave of pleasure and amazement.  I was cumming so hard, I thought my vagina was blasting me into space.  I can’t stop thinking about it._** ”  And this Megan, hypnotized in a bar by a stranger, did not want to submit to hypno-sex in any way.

******

I mull over all I’ve found while making a late-night cup of coffee.  Seduction by hypnosis, is, it seems, a real thing.  Possibly a sliver of America’s sexual subculture that has yet to be explored by any other writer.  Hmm.

It mixes a lot of violable elements.  Obviously, it involves sex and power.  A serious imbalance of power.  And in many of these stories, there’s a scary element of non-consensual sex.  Rape, as Kiko would say.

But on the other hand, some of these women seem to have discovered a way to experience sex so incredible, so delightful, that the momentary brainwashing is, well, worth it.  As Kellie, that prostitute from Chicago, put it:  “ ** _When I get hypnotized for sex,_** **_I go on this little adventure and I believe crazy things for a little while.  I have great sex, and then I wake up, and my life resumes._** ”  So there’s a saucy reward element to the story as well.

I mix in the sugar, making a decision.  This is my next story.  I’m not sure how I’ll gather the interviews I need, but I’ve tackled harder cases before.

But this story… this one could be big.  I can feel it.

******

“Hey Stu, what do you know about hypnosis?” I ask my buddy.

We are catching lunch at Gulie’s, an upscale diner in Brookline.  Any time I embark on a topic that I don’t know much about, I bounce the early ideas off Stu.

In his late twenties, Stu is a good guy.  Overweight and scruffy but attractive, he is the ultimate Star Wars fan, always wearing a tee shirt with a Jedi or Ewok or spaceship or whatever on it.  Yes, Stu and I tried dating in years past, but I couldn’t stand all the Star Wars crap at his apartment.  We work much better as friends and fellow journalists.

Stu slices into his open turkey sandwich, considering the question.  “Hypnotism doesn’t work,” he says immediately.  “I paid this guy $400 to hypnotize me to quit smoking, and you know what, Susan?”

“You’re still on two packs a day,” I finish.

“Yeah,” Stu grunts, then gulps a huge piece of meat and bread.  “Wh’ ‘u ask?” he says, his mouth full.

I lay out the basics of my nascent Hypnosex story.

Stu makes a face, swallowing.  “That’s just too weird,” he shakes his head.  “I don’t buy it.  If hypnotists could make ladies orgasm like you say, they’d be this thriving industry of women hungry for it.  This story’s a dud.”

I poke at my spinach salad, considering.  Stu’s instincts are usually right.

My friend peers at me while cutting another hunk of sandwich.  “Jesus, Susan,” he says.  “You took all those Psych classes in college.  You know psychological issues better than any of us.  Maybe if you’d stuck with it all the way, you’d know that hypnosis is bunk.”

I flick Stu an annoyed glance.  True, as an undergraduate, I majored in Psychology.  My mother was mortified when I choose journalism over therapeutic work as my profession.  But why do people always assume my True Calling is as a therapist?  I’m a reporter.  I don’t want to be a shrink.

******


	2. Chapter 2

***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves women becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

 

The work begins.

I check my email, and I see maybe four of the women from the TrancedGirlfriend blog have responded to my request for an interview.  I begin scheduling calls with them.

There’s also two voicemails from professional hypnotists that I reached out to.  The first wants to charge me for an interview – idiot.  Doesn’t he realize the value of free press?  But the second, an Ellen Hastings, sounds excited to talk.  She’s a CH (Certified Hypnotherapist from the National Guild of Hypnotists).  I call her up.

“ _Hypnosis_ **can’t** _be used to seduce women for sex,_ ” Ellen insists in her bubbly, cheerful voice of hers.  “ _It just can’t.  No way._ ”

I falter.  If Ellen’s right, my story is probably dead.

“Yeah, but-“ I argue.

“ _Susan, I’ve done hypnosis for over_ **twenty-five years _,_** ” Ellen cuts me off.  “ _Its not mind control.  Too many people think it is._ ”  She adds tartly, “ _Which is the single biggest hang-up people have to my profession._ ”

Something’s not adding up here.  “Wait,” I press.  “So in those stage hypnosis shows, people go up and get hypnotized, and then the hypnotist makes them do all sorts of humiliating things.”

I’m thinking of a Vegas show I watched on YouTube.  The hypnotist convinced all the men that their penises were attached to their foreheads.  Then he lined them up, made them bend at the waist, and butt-fuck each other in the world’s grossest orgy.  You want to tell me **_any of those guys_** enjoyed it as the audience roared at them?

“ _Oh, stage hypnotists use intimidation and unfair tricks to bamboozle their volunteers,_ ” Ellen explains, her annoyance clear.  “ _They’re con artists, really.  If they were honest and didn’t lie to their volunteers, they wouldn’t have a show._ ”

I doodle on my notepad.  “So you’re saying… all these women who claim they’ve been hypnotized into sex are… lying?”

“ _Not lying,_ ” says Ellen quickly.  “ _If these women were impressionable and highly suggestible, its possible they might have been tricked into doing something they didn’t think they wanted to do.  But I’ll betcha that on some level of their subconscious, they were open to the sex._ ”

I’m skeptical.  On TrancedGirlfriend, Stacie wrote: **_When my boyfriend says, “Look into my eyes,” I know that soon I will be his helpless, naked whore and I will do anything he wants, anything._**   How can Ellen square that?

******

The four women from TrancedGirlfriend that I interview leave me even more stranded.  I schedule phone calls with the first three.

Theresa, somewhere in rural Wisconsin, is maddingly vague.  “ _Well, Frank did hypnotize me,_ ” she says, then quickly adds, “ _I think.  I’m not sure._ ”

I ask her to tell her story.  She pauses.  “ _Well… I don’t remember it,_ ” she mumbles.  “ _I, like, know Frank says stuff to me and I go to sleep, and then we, you know, do it.  And then other stuff._ ”  But this is all the detail I can wring from her.  Useless.

Delia from Detroit can’t stop bragging.  “ _Oh, yeah, I’m like the biggest hypno-bitch,_ ” she assures me.  “ _I let Joe do the hypnosis to me because he was learning it for school, right?  Now he’s got me, like, programmed for his friends and shit.  He, like, snaps his fingers, and I bark like a dog.  I cum like a mother when he spanks me._ ”  This is wild hyperbole, and no reader is going to buy Delia as credible.  Useless.

The third woman, Henrietta, wants $10,000 for the exclusive rights to her story.  **_As if!_**

******

The last TrancedGirlfriend woman is Angelina, and she’s just an hour outside Wooster.  Because I have to drive out to Mom’s house anyway, I arrange to meet Angelina at her place.

As I make the drive, I have second thoughts about this story.  As you’ve probably gathered, my articles are about women who are coming to grips that on some level, they are disappointed with their sex lives.  So when I interview ladies for my work, I hear a lot of complaining and whining.  I get it, that’s the nature of the beast, but…

But if this Angelina turns out to be another complainer, maybe I’m done.  I can’t take another interview with a woman who wants to belly-ache that she isn’t having amazing sex.  No-one has amazing sex.  Don’t they know that?!?

******

Chez Angelina is the rattiest trailer in America’s shittiest trailer park.  I am reluctant to sit down on the stained couch.

“Here,” Angelina insists, thrusting a beer at me.  She’s a big, chunky girl with bad teeth.  I don’t want to think about her having sex.

“So,” my hostess says, then belches.  “Good one.  Now, you want t’ know how Jasper hypno- ** _ties_** me fer sex?”

“Yeah,” I smile, trying not to inhale.  This trailer stinks.

“Why don’t we just show you?” Angelina offers.

I almost spit beer.  “Uh… **_what?_** ” I ask.

“Here, we’ll show you,” the chick promises.  She leans back, screeching, “ ** _JASPER!!!  Git yer butt in here!!!_** ”

Jasper emerges from the other room, wearing Bermuda shorts, a fraying wifebeater, and mismatched flip-flops.  Very dapper.  He saunters right up to Angelina, staring intently at me.

“Show Miz Susan here how you hypno me to be yer sex bitch, eh, baby?” Angelina asks, rubbing his crotch.

“Oh, yeah,” Jasper says.  He steps back.

Then, his eyes bulging, Jasper locks his gaze on Angelina, waving his arms like a crazy windmill.  “You will git sleepy,” he intones, “’n you will become my horny fuck-bitch.  You git that?”

Angelina sits up straight, her eyes wide.  She extends her arms straight ahead.  “ _I hear ‘n obey, master_ ,” she says like a robot.  Then, as I cringe, she stands and reaches to peel off her kitten tee shirt.

“Okay, okay!” I shout.  “I got the picture, thanks.”

I drive out of the trailer park, angry and bummed.  Angelina clearly thought I would print her story and that make her famous or some such ridiculous shit.

Stu was right.  I’ve spent three days on this hypnosex story, and what do I really have?  Bupkis.

******

Despite it all, I make a few desperate attempts to salvage my story.  More than even, I’m kicking myself for not corralling that Tina chick back when I was at Starbucks.

For the third time, I call Ellen the pro hypnotherapist, hoping for some new insight, some piece of information that will illuminate this mystery for me.

“ _Happy to talk with you again,_ ” Ellen says to me, although she doesn’t sound happy at all.

I push her some more on the contradiction between _the hypnosis-as-a-clinical tool_ and _hypnosis-as-an-enslaving-mind-control_ models.

There’s a pause.  “ _When is this story coming out again?_ ” Ellen asks impatiently.

“Oh, soon,” I fib.  “So, can you explain…”

But Ellen and I are just rehashing what we discussed earlier.  I’m getting no-where.

“ _Look, Susan,_ ” glowers Ellen.  “ _I enjoy talking with you, but you’re eating up time I could be billing to a client.  Can I make an observation?_ ”

“Sure,” I allow.

“ _You’ve never been hypnotized, have you?_ ” Ellen asks me point-blank.

“Uh…” I stammer, caught off-guard.  “Well, no, actually.”

“ _That’s your problem,_ ” states Ellen.  “ _You’re trying to write about a state-of-mind you’ve never experienced.  You might as well try to write a travelogue for a country where you’ve never been._ ”

I mull this over.  She has a point.  I think.

“ _I have an idea,_ ” Ellen proposes.  “ _Let me schedule a session with you.  I’ll give you the basics, some relaxation techniques, some guided imagery… enough for you to get your feet wet._ ”

“Interesting,” I allow.

“ _I charge four hundred for the first session,_ ” Ellen tells me.  “ _Two-fifty for each subsequent session.  Its a special deal._ ”

“I’ll think about it,” I say sourly, then get off the phone.

My hypnosex story is now officially dead.  Too bad, it showed such promise.

******

I’m moping and doing my laundry when my smartphone rings.  Its Stu.

“ _Hey there, fangirl,_ ” he says, mostly because he knows that name annoys me.

“S’up?” I respond flatly.  I put him on speaker and go back to untangling my bras.

We exchange the usual “What’s going on?” banter.  I tell him about my recently-deceased hypnosis story.

“ _You shoulda listened to me,_ ” Stu lectures, and he’s right.

I sigh.

“ _Listen,_ ” Stu says, switching topics, “ _tomorrow night is Becky and Hans’ housewarming dinner.  You want to be my Plus One?_ ”

I know Becky and Hans.  Good people.  Becky was my intern at the Chronicle, years ago.  Hans is a great chef.

“Yeah,” I say.  “Ink me in, nerd.”

“ _Hmmgh,_ ” Stu grumbles.  “ _You know I hate it when you call me that._ ”

I grin and hang up.

******

There are nine of us at Becky and Hans’: obviously our hosts, then me, Stu, and then Julio, Karen, Lou, Kendrick, and Marian.  Julio, Karen, and Lou I know through friends, all three are writers.  Marian and Lou are a serious couple.  Kendrick I’m meeting for the first time.

Becky and Hans’ new place is so fabulous, you can’t help feeling depressed while taking the grand tour.  Their kitchen alone is worth killing for.  Becky is, I think, three years younger than I am, but she’s well on her way to marriage, kids, house in the suburbs, Having It All.  I’m happy for her… but a jealous part of me wouldn’t mind if she was hit by a bolt of lightning.

As if to rub in my dismay at Becky’s domestic success, Hans amazes us all with dinner.  We dine on – **_I shit you not_** – roast pheasant, sided with pork rillettes, grilled vegetable tart, chicken liver paté, a sprout salad with mushrooms, and white wine.  Lots of white wine.

Soon faces are flush and we are bragging freely.  It turns out that Marian has somehow met half the celebrities in New York, and has selfies to prove it.  We pass her phone around and laugh and swap bawdy jokes.

As the evening rolls on, I strangely start feeling sorry for myself.  The more I look at Becky, **_who used to be my intern at the Chronicle, for Christsakes,_** the older I feel.  Back when we met, she was a gawky millennial; now she’s practically a trophy wife.  She has it all.  Me?  My career flatlined years ago.  I can’t remember the last great sex I had, nor the last good date, nor the last time I put any money into my meager savings account.

 _Maybe,_ I think glumly to myself, _the problem is I don’t take any risks in life.  I’m too_ **safe** _._

Becky was a calculated risk-taker, and look at her.  She’s twenty-four, and will have three kids out before thirty.

“Anyway,” Marian is saying, “Lou and me, we decided on Vegas for our vacation.”

There’s a chorus of, “Oh, nice!” around the table.

“It is my goal,” Lou says solemnly, “to get a pict of me and a genuine Vegas showgirl.”

Marian rolls her eyes.  “ ** _Real_** showgirls are always topless,” she explains.  “I think if Lou gets his picture, I get something in return.”

“Picts with Thunder Down Under?” Hans asks.

“No, no,” giggles Marian.  “I want to go to one of those raunchy stage hypnotism shows, and I want Lou to go up and get hypnotized.”

This immediately spurs engaged conversation and bad jokes.

“You’ll go?” Karen asks Lou, aghast.

Lou shrugs.  “Yeah, I’ll go up.  It won’t have any effect on me, so why not?”

“Famous last words,” laughs Becky, tossing a cloth napkin at Lou’s face.

“You guys,” Stu interjects, “you should ask Susan here about that.  She’s the hypnotism expert.”

When he says my name, I shoot Stu an exasperated look.

“Expert?” that Kendrick guy asks.  “Why?”

“Oh,” I shake my head, “I was working on this story about women who are hypnotized and then coerced into sex.”

Everybody reacts at this.  Responses range from bewildered questions to sarcastic comments.

“Oh my God,” Karen gapes, half-amazed, half-repulsed.  “That’s fucking sick!”

“The story idea didn’t pan out,” I shrug.

But the table isn’t satisfied.  With a little prodding, I tell them about the conversation I overheard between Tina and Kiko at Starbucks.

“ ** _No way_** what that chick said actually happened,” Julio pronounces immediately.

“Yeah,” agrees Stu.  “That’s what I said.”

“The literature and experts tell me,” I say, “that hypnotized people don’t give up any control.  That’s how it is.”

“See?” Lou says to Marian.  “Told you.”

“You know who you guys should **_really_** talk to…?” Karen says playfully.

There’s something in her voice that causes everyone to shut up and look at her.

“Kendrick here is a **_real_** hypnotist,” Karen informs us, with a sideways grin to Kendrick who is sitting on her left.  “At Stanford, he founded a hypnotism club and did shows for the Greeks and everything.”

All eyes now assess Kendrick.  For the first time, I find myself **_really_** looking at him.

The guy is good-looking.  I’m guessing he’s half-African American, half… something else.  Whatever, the boy’s genes have combined to make him look really, really good.  His face is effortlessly handsome, with a cute nose, a defined jaw, and impressive white teeth.  I like his brown eyes.  His body is compact and muscular, and I’m guessing he plays a lot of basketball or softball.  He even dresses well; he spots a black button-down and tie that looks both formal and hip.  Eye candy.

“You’re a hypnotist?” Hans asks, speaking for all of us.

Kendrick smiles modestly.  “I’ve had my moments,” he admits, picking up his wine glass.

“Oh, he’s being modest,” scolds Karen.  “Check this out.”

She grabs her phone, furiously thumbing the screen.  After a few seconds, she shows us a grainy video of motionless people sitting in a row on stage.  Kendrick paces before them, saying, “ _At the count of three, you will awaken, fully convinced you are first-graders.  One-two-three!_ ”

Instantly, all the people sit up and start squirming in their seats.  A big fat guy on the end flaps his hand desperately in the air.

“ _Teeeeeecher?_ ” he whines.  “ _I gotta go potty, real real bad!_ ”

We all laugh.  The scene looks ridiculous.

“Yeah, that fat guy was the Law School valedictorian,” Karen tells us, flipping through other videos.  “Kendrick put ‘em all to sleep.”

“Oh my God…!” Julio exclaims, looking at Kendrick as if the hypnotist was radiating with ghostly light.

Kendrick sips his wine.  “Its something I learned a while back,” he remarks, but doesn’t seem all that interested in elaborating.

But then he looks up… and straight at me.  Our eyes lock.

I’m caught by his intense stare.  He’s handsome, no doubt.  Deep within me, I’m flattered.  I wonder if he’s single?

“You guys,” Becky exclaims, “we should hypnotize someone here!”

“Go ahead, then,” Lou waves his hand at her.

Becky turns white.  “Oh, not me,” she says quickly.  “I – I’d make a lousy subject.”

Marian elbows Lou in the ribs.  “You go,” she urges.

“No fucking way,” Lou announces, scooping up his wine glass.  “Not me.”

“I’ll do it,” I say.

Everyone falls silent, looking at me.

The words are already out of my mouth; too late to retract them now.  I’m not sure why I volunteered, but what’s done is done.

You know, after Ellen the Hypnotherapist prodding me to try going under, after the shitty week I’ve had, and after thinking about how Becky is so much more daring that I am, I’m in the mood to say **_“Fuck it_** _, I’ll try something new._ ”  Why not?  I’m surrounded by friends.

I take a big swig of wine, then plant my glass back on the table.  I ignore the alarmed look Stu is giving me.

“I’ll do it,” I repeat.  “Hypnotize me.”

******


	3. Chapter 3

***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves women becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

We are all in the living room.  My eyes are closed.  I am sitting on a folding chair at the center of the rug, with Kendrick standing off my left.  Everyone else is watching me silently.  All I can hear is Kendrick’s voice and the clock ticking away.

I feel relaxed, so relaxed, soooooooooo **_incredibly_** fucking relaxed.  Like, you can’t believe how switched off my body is.  My arms are limp in my lap, and my legs have turned to sludge, flowing down into the floor.  I feel like I’m made from clay and from air at the same time.  My head is down, and I can tell my thick hair has come forward, completely hiding my expressionless face from everyone else.  I feel peaceful, calm, absolutely worry-free.  I don’t have a care in the world.

Kendrick is talking continuously, telling me how I’m relaxing, how great I feel, how wonderful everything is.  Every now and then, he lifts my arm by the wrist and wiggles it.  Its amazing how my arm totally feels like a wet noodle.  Completely relaxed.  Every time he plops it into my lap, I drop ten times deeper.  Feels wonderful.

“There,” Kendrick announces calmly.  “Susan’s under.  She’s hypnotized.”

I am?  Although I feel like my body has been transformed into a giant pillow, I’m totally conscious of everything.  I could get up and walk on out of here.  If I wanted to.

“She’s… asleep?” I hear Becky ask in wonder.

“Not asleep,” Kendrick tells her.  “Hypnotized.  Susan is aware of everything, in fact, **_hyperaware_** of everything.  She’s just in a highly suggestible state.”

Huh.

“So… what can you make her do?” Lou asks.

“Pretty much anything,” says Kendrick, once again raising, shaking, and then dropping my arm.  “Let’s not embarrass the girl, though.  Let’s do something simple.  Ah, I know.”

I feel the hypnotist’s hand rest on my shoulder.  He speaks to me, but tells me I’ll forget what he’s saying.  Which I promptly do.

Suddenly, he’s snapping his fingers, and I am awake.  Weird.  I blink my eyes, stung by the bright lights here.

All the dinner guests lean in, watching me closely.

“Hey guys,” I say warily.

“How do you feel?” asks Hans.

“Good,” I reply, taking stock.  “Relaxed.  Really, really…”

At that moment, an enormous red butterfly flutters into the room.  I gasp, struck by its delicate beauty.  The elegant creature circles my head once.  It smells like perfume.

“…wow,” I breathe, unable to believe **_this_**.

Cautiously, I put out one finger.  And, to my amazement, the butterfly lands on it.  I barely feel its weight.  As I stare with childlike joy, the insect lazily flexes its wings.

“What do you have there?” Kendrick asks me absently.

“You can’t see it?” I exclaim.  “Oh, its so… gorgeous!”

Kendrick raises his eyebrows.  “What?”

I describe the butterfly, careful not to disturb it as I gesture.

My friends murmur with amazement.  “Holy shit,” I hear Julio mumble to Stu.  “She’s **_really_** hypnotized…!”

I don’t know what Julio is talking about, but I don’t care.  How often does a red-velvet butterfly land on **_your_ **finger?

“You think that’s impressive?” Kendrick asks me.  “Check this out.”

He waves his hand in the air, a grand gesture.  Suddenly the air is **_filled_** with red butterflies, hundreds of them, struggling through the air and each glowing with their own soft, red light.

My jaw drops open, and then I giggle like a little girl.  As I extend my arms out, butterflies land on me.  I feel them on my hands, forearms, my hair.  I’m in wonder.

Kendrick is speaking to me, but I’m so entranced by the butterflies, I don’t consciously listen.

And then, the butterflies vanish in the air.

“Hey,” I say, confused.  “Where-“

“ ** _SLEEP!_** ” Kendrick tells me.

******

And once again, my eyes are closed, and I’m floating in perfect relaxation.  This time, I’m not even aware of my own body.  Its like my mind has drifted into a dream.  All I’m aware of is Kendrick’s voice.

******

“ ** _Five!_** ”

Kendrick is snapping his fingers, right before my face.  I’m annoyed, but only for a second.

“Hey,” Kendrick says.

“Hey,” I respond, wondering why I feel so spacey.  “So… are you going to hypnotize me, or what?  That’s why we all came into the living room, right?”

The other dinner guests exchange glances and giggles.  I wonder what’s so funny.

“In a minute,” allows Kendrick.  “First, I wanted to ask you: do you notice anything weird here?”

What is he talking about?

I say, “No, I-“

 ** _Whoa!_**   How did I not notice **_this_** before?!?  Kendrick is **_totally butt fucking naked!!!_**

I’m not kidding!  He’s standing right there, and now that I’m looking at him, I can see **_every detail_** of his chiseled body.  Jeez, he has nice muscle definition.  Nice pecs, nice abs, nice-

Oh shit!  There’s his penis!

I quickly look down, straight down.  I’m blushing with embarrassment.

“Whoa, what’s the matter?” Kendrick asks.

“Where are your **_clothes?_** ” I squeal.

My friends laugh.  I ignore them.

“Sorry?” the hypnotist asks.

How can he be so clueless?  “You’re naked!” I cry.  “I don’t want to see… your… **_you know!_** ”

More laughter.

Kendrick says, “You sure?  Look again, look closely.”

What is he talking about?  Fighting shame, I tear my eyes up from the carpet and look at him again.

Yep, Kendrick’s still in the buff.  He’s got a great body, but that boy ain’t wearing so much as a ring.  I’m aghast for him.  How did he walk the streets like this?!?

My friends laugh some more, and I turn to them to ask if Kendrick can borrow a sweatshirt or something…

But **_fuck me!!!_**

**_Everyone else is naked too!!!_ **

Jesus Christ!  When did this happen?  I don’t get it.

I goggle at my friends, not believing what I’m seeing.  Jesus, Marian looks great naked!  That girl has got some body.  Becky, I’m snidely pleased to say, has put on some pounds.  And Stu…

“ ** _Stu!_** ” I shriek, covering my eyes in horror.  “ ** _Omigod_** , I saw your **_wee-wee!_** ”

I’m so flummoxed, it hasn’t occurred to me that I’m using the term “wee-wee” for Stu’s naked, stubby, hairy penis.  I can never unsee that now.

Strangely, my friends guffaw even harder.

“Susan, Susan!” Kendrick calls, touching my shoulder.  “What’s wrong?!?”

I don’t know why he needs to ask, but I tell him anyway:  “ ** _Everyone’s naked!!!_** ”

Ignoring the belly-laughs, Kendrick tells me, “Okay, okay, you want me to make this better?”

I have no idea what Kendrick’s talking about, but it sounds good to me.  “ ** _Yes!_** ” I bellow, still covering my eyes.

Weirdly, I hear Stu snap his fingers and say, “ ** _Swap!_** ”

“Swap?”  What does that mean???

“Okay, you can look now,” says Stu, patting my shoulder in a comforting way.

Fearfully, I remove my hands from my eyes.  I peak…

Yes!  Stu is back in his clothes.  Whew…!  That was fast.

In fact, everyone is in their wardrobe.  I do a quick scan, verifying no-one else is in their birthday suit.

“There,” says Kendrick.

I sit back in my chair, in relief.  Now can we get around to hypnotizing me?

I happen to glance down, and notice that my legs and feet are bare.  That’s weird, what-

**_Holy fucking shit!!!_ **

**_I’M COMPLETELY NAKED!!!_ **

**_I’M COMPLETELY FUCKING NAKED!!!_ **

I scream, quickly wrapping my arms around my boobs and crossing my legs.  I scrunch forward, so Julio can’t see my hoo-hah from his angle; he’s sitting on the floor.

Again, my friends bust out laughing.

“Its not funny, you guys!” I wail, humiliated.

But the laughs roll.

“I’ll fix this,” promises Kendrick.  “Susan, look at me.”

Although I’m hunched over, I look up.

Snapping his fingers, Kendrick commands, “ ** _SLEEP!_** ”

******

The next hour is weird, to say the least.  I go in and out of this strange sleep, always at Kendrick’s direction.  Every time my eyes open, something **_really_** fucking weird happens.

Once, I completely believe I am a grammar and etiquette specialist, and I firmly reprimand all my friends for every structural infraction of the English language.  Another time, I’m convinced that I am a female Tarzan, dressed in the fur bikini and everything.  I can demonstrate how I call the elephants and how I can speak in chimpanzee.  Another time, I’m back to normal, except every time Kendrick taps his chin, I’m **_certain_** someone has pinched my butt… but I can never figure out who.

At the end, Kendrick asks me to stand up.  With a word, he transforms my body into a stiff wooden plank, so stiff that I can’t move my limbs.  Using Julio and Hans for manpower, I am lifted up and then suspended between two chairs, by shoulders resting on one chair, my ankles resting on another.  My body is completely straight.  At Kendrick’s command, I must raise one leg straight into the air, which I do happily.  My body remains perfectly straight the whole time.

******

And then, Kendrick is counting me up, and I am blinking in the living room, wondering why all my friends are clustering around me.

“That was amazing!” Becky tells me excitedly.

“What do you remember?” asks Hans.

I don’t know what he’s talking about.  “Remember what?” I ask cluelessly.

It takes some coaxing, and more than a few people have to show me the videos they captured on their phones.  But gradually, my experiences under hypnosis come back to me… more-or-less.

I grin in embarrassment, astonished how completely Kendrick owned me and my mind.  Its actually both fun and horrifying to see yourself acting like a fool while hypnotized.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed,” Kendrick smiles at me.  “You did absolutely great.  I wish I had such a powerful imagination as yours.”

******

An hour later, the party has broken up.  Hans and Becky politely but firmly refuse our offers to help with the dishes.  Soon we are picking our coats off their bed.

“See you on Monday?” Stu asks me as he runs for his Uber.  I nod quickly.

******

A minute or two later, I am standing on the cold sidewalk, watching on my phone as my Lyft driver hopelessly wanders in downtown traffic.  Annoyed, I start to cancel the ride.

I hear footsteps behind me.  I turn, and _surprise!_   Its Kendrick.

“Hey girl,” he says amiably.

“Hi,” I reply, surprised that I’m a little embarrassed to see him.  I can still remember what his voice felt like while I was hypnotized:  Penetrating, soothing, irresistible.

“I was hoping to run into you,” says Kendrick smoothly, stepping toward me with confidence.  “In fact, I was willing you to remain a moment so I could talk to you.”

“…’kay,” I reply.

Kendrick stares straight at me, walking right up to my right side.  His brown eyes are bright, glistening.  He stands so close that our coats are touching.

“Tell me again about that article you were writing?” He says.  Somehow he manages to ask yet sound completely disinterested.

I open my mouth to respond, suddenly feeling uncertain.  “It is…  I mean, it was about women… who, ah, were hypnotized into…”

“Into what?” Kendrick asks smoothly.

As he says this, his left hand slips under my coat and grabs my right buttock, overtop my jeans.  He caresses it.  Squeezes it.  Rubs it up and down.  Lifts it up, then drops it.  Traces its outline with one probing finger.

“Into what?” the hypnotist repeats, gazing into my eyes even more intently.

“…into becoming… their sex s-, um, slaves,” I finish meekly.

I feel that hand fondle the hell out of my ass, aware of little else.  Why can’t pull away?  Why can’t I look at anything else but those huge, soft eyes?

“Mmmm,” sighs Kendrick happily.  “Kiss me.”

I immediately lean forward, planting my lips against his.  I **_have_** to; I have no choice.

Kendrick kisses me lazily, his moustache stubble prickling my lip.  His tongue shoves itself into my mouth, eager and frisky.

Deep in my mind, I know I should push him away, smack his face, scream bloody murder…  But I can’t.  I’m confused and feeling somewhat sleepy.  Like I’m fading into a dream.

Kendrick’s free hand unzips my coat, then reaches in and begins cupping my breasts.  Now each of his hands is probing me.  I like it, yet wish I could escape.

“Susan, you’re gonna come back with me,” he says softly.  “You’re gonna go into my bed and do everything I desire.  Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

The hand on my butt squeezes harder.  “Yes, **_what?_** ”

“Yes, master,” I respond.

I speak the words without thought or resistance.  Its like my will is melting in the glare of his eyes.  I feel myself going back into the strange relaxation where I can’t resist anything he’s telling me.

Behind me, a car pulls up.  I hear the window roll down.

“Hey, sir, are you Kendrick?” a woman’s voice says.  “Uber here.”

“Get in,” Kendrick orders me.  “And then you will fall into a deep, deep sleep.  Do it.”

I turn, and get into the car.

******

 


	4. Chapter 4

***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves women becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

 

I am completely naked, **_really naked_** this time, kneeling before Kendrick my master, obediently sucking away on his cock.  I used to do this a lot in high school.  But then in college I read a whole bunch of feminist literature which explained how the blow job is a demeaning sex act.  The woman lowers herself before the man, and dedicates her body and her mouth solely to his pleasure.  Her mouth, the source of her political power, is silenced solely for the man to ejaculate into.  And what does the man do for this pleasure?  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  The blow job is a manifestation of the woman’s complete subjugation before the man.

I can still remember all of those books clearly.  But now, their arguments are powerless to seep into my bewitched mind.  I suck away because, well, I’ve been commanded to, and I **_have_** to do it.  It like Kendrick speaks his slightest whim, and my mind goes blank and I **_have_** to obey him.

Its so weird, this spell I’m under.  I’m aware of everything I’m doing.  When Kendrick orders me to disrobe slowly in a strip tease, or take off his own pants, or suck his balls, or now grease his member, I simply reply, “Yes, master,” and then I obey.  I can’t stop myself, but more importantly, I don’t **_want_** to stop myself.  Obeying him is a strange source of pleasure for me.

“Oh yeah…” Kendrick grunts.

I crane my neck so I can look up at my master.  He’s nude from the waist down, still wearing that black button-down shirt.  His eyes are closed and his mouth slightly open as he enjoys my slurping.

I’m building up a lot of spit.  I’m also using one hand to grip the base of his cock.  Hoping to enhance his delight, I reach around with the other and flip my fingers between his tight little buttocks.  His glutei muscles are lean and tight.

Kendrick’s dick is beginning to dribble in my mouth.  I gag a little.  Even in high school, I’ve never liked the taste of cum.

From above, my master glances down, and must guess what my little noise was.  He says something – it goes straight into my mind – and then snaps his fingers.  My thoughts momentarily skip.

Wait…  Holy shit, his cum tastes like…  No, it is… **_chocolate!_**   No shit!  His fucking cum is real liquid chocolate!  Not that awful sugary Hershey’s syrup, but genuine, rich, Swiss chocolate!  The type I’m always craving, but only allow myself to have on New Years’.  How the fuck can my master ejaculate Swiss chocolate?!?

I’m amazed, but decide not to care.  He’s **_delicious_**.

I suck harder and faster, suddenly horny to taste his chocolate river, all of it.

“Oh God…!” Kendrick mumbles, his fingers digging into my hair.  “Oh fuck, oh yeah…!  Yeahhh…!!!”

I increase pressure with both hands and with more suction.  I also start rocking my head side-to-side, which means my tongue is slithering over more and more of his member.

Suddenly Kendrick cries out, his head tossing back.  I feel his penis kick, and then…

Ahhh…!  Rich, thick chocolate fills my mouth.

I make a low, happy sound, delighted at my treasure.  Now I suck and gulp with equal abandon, relishing every drop of him.  I wonder if he’s low-fat.  I grab his butt with both hands, and **_squeeze_**.

“Oh yeah…” groans Kendrick, his hands sliding down the sides of my head.  “Oh man… yes…!  Oh, you’re so hot…!”

He finishes.  I gulp him down, lick my lips, and then eye Kendrick hungrily.  He may have blasted his orgasm, but I want mine.

I’ve been hypnotized.  I know that now.  And now that I’ve taken off my clothes and lured into bed and become a disgusting little slave, I want my hypnotic orgasm.  I want that Trophy O that Tina described.  **_I want it so bad._**

Like a lioness, I pounce on Kendrick, kissing his face and neck with abandon.  The hypnotist, still recovering from his own pleasure, flails.  I grip his body firmly, spin him around, and then push him down onto his back.  Time for mine, **_bitch_**.

“Wait…” Kendrick mumbles.

Nope, no time for waiting.  I’m horny now.  I slither up his chest, making sure to slap my boobs against his skin all the way.  Guys love that.  I kiss and lick and suck on him, all the way.

Then I pass over his face, making sure to gaze into his eyes as I do.  I want Kendrick to see how on fire I am, how much I want to be pleasured as no woman has even been pleasured before.  You and I are making sex history in this room, right now, Kendrick, that’s how’s its gonna be.

I plant my hands on the mattress, over his shoulders.  Now I arch my back, lowering my boobs into his face.

“Suck them,” I command.  “Suck them both.  Make my nipples hard.”

I may be hypnotized to believe Kendrick is my master, but right now, I’m so fucking horny, I don’t care.  I want pleasure.

Kendrick’s lips touch my mammies, and I smile a little as his tongue licks me.  I don’t know about other girls, but I love getting my boobs sucked.  I love it.  I love the feel of a mouth on their soft roundness, and it drives me crazy when a tongue dances around my nipples.  Ohhh…  Yeah…!

Closing his eyes, Kendrick laps me, spending most of his time on my left tit.  Mmmm, nice.  He’s good.  I gasp and smile as my nipple stiffens under his influence.

At the same time, I press my hips down against his body.  I’m so wet, I’m probably dribbling all over his abs.  Well, good.  I want him to know how fucking horny I am.

I allow my master to suck me a while longer.  This is great and all, but what momma **_really_** wants is a cock in her.  I hope Kendrick is getting hard again…?

Hmm.  I don’t feel his cock poking me down there.  He’s not erect.  Aw, shit.  Did I miss my sex window?  Don’t tell me I got hypnotized to go to bed with this guy, and all I will experience is one blow job?  I mean, the chocolate was a nice surprise and all, but…

“Fuck me, master,” I moan, arching my back even more.

Kendrick looks up at me.

“ ** _Fuck_** me,” I moan louder.

He’s still not hard.  Goddamn!

My lover pushes on my ribcage gently, a signal that I’m to dismount him.

I hop off, sitting on the mattress with my haunches beneath me.  I’m fighting the disappointed feeling that I’m about to be sent away.

“Look at me,” Kendrick orders, sitting up and staring at me.

I find myself gazing at him.  My muscles begin to relax.  My thoughts blur.  I’m slipping back into hypnosis.

“When I count to three,” Kendrick tells me, “you will go even deeper into trance.  You will remain awake, yet completely accept and obey every suggestion I give you.

He’s asserting control over me again.  I’m not sure I like that, but… I can’t stop him.

Kendrick counts, and my world fades…

******

Wait, what happened?

I’m not sure.  I’m still kneeling on the bed, naked.  My legs, folded up beneath me, are tingling, about to go to sleep.  I blink.

“Grab the headboard,” growls Kendrick.

My mind goes blank and my hands obey him without any direction from me.  Instantly, glue appears under my palms and fingers.

Hey, I’m **_glued_** to the headboard!  I can’t let go!

I struggle a little, but its no use.  I’m stuck in position.

“Relax,” Kendrick whispers, stroking my back.  His hand gently sweeps from my shoulderblades down to the top of my butt.  Then again.  Then again.

He tells me, “You’ll like this.  Now… spread your legs.  **_Wide._** ”

My legs spread themselves.  I feel cold air against my vagina.  I’m not as wet as I was before.

“Mmm,” the hypnotist murmurs, stroking away, as if I’m a cat.  “You’ll like this.  You’ll like this a lot… slave.”

My thoughts wink out.  “Yes master,” I hear myself saying.

Grinning wickedly, Kendrick keeps stroking me.  “You know **_why_** you’ll like this?” he teases.  “There’s a simple reason…”

“Why?” I ask.

I feel helpless, which I’m not really into.  And yet, Kendrick’s voice is seductive.  I’m hoping he’s about to fuck me.  Despite my discomfort, its really hard to resist him.

“Because,” he replies, still stroking, “I have **_these._** ”

And then, he draws his hand before my face.

My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.  His hand!  No lie, his palms are the same…

…but his fingers and thumb have been **_replaced_** with **_erect penises!!!_**   No **_fucking_** lie, Kendrick’s digits **_are all erect, rigid cocks!!!_**

I stare, amazed, repulsed… and horny.  How is this fucking freak of nature possible???  How can a man go through life with penises where his fingers should be?  It doesn’t make any sense!

And yet, the more I gape, the more I believe.  There, on the end of Kendrick’s very wrist, is the proof.  There is his palm, and then a short, stubby cock where his thumb should be, and then one, two, three, **_four_** enormous fat stiff cocks where there should be fingers.  Each one of them is thick and long and gaping at me.

I gasp in amazement.

Kendrick grins again, and begins stroking my back again.  I feel the penises gentle brush my skin.

“You will try to resist this,” Kendrick tells me, “but its no use.”

As I try to fathom what has happened, the penis-hand descends down my back… down my butt… around one buttock… **_between_** both buttocks… pass over my anus…

I gasp again, realizing what Kendrick is about to do.

“Wait,” I plead quickly.  “My pussy… she’s isn’t built for more than one cock!  She’ll-“

“She’ll be fine,” Kendrick says slyly.

I try to say something else, but its too late.  His penis-fingers are stroking my vagina.

At first, they just brush the outside, lightly.  I tremble, delighted at the sensation.  You know how the better lovers know to tease your vajayjay a little with their dicks before they push on in?  That’s that this feels like.  Except these dicks have the lightest touch, just barely making contact.  There’s no clumsy fumbling here.  Kendrick’s multipenis hand operates on me with the finesse of a surgeon.

I am breathing heavily.  My leg muscles are **_tense_** , and I’m exerting so much pressure on the headboard, it’s a wonder I don’t snap it into pieces.  Although I want to watch Kendrick, my eyes close themselves.

Ohhhhhh…  I feel my orgasm.  She’s rising up inside me.  And Kendrick hadn’t even come in yet.

“And now,” my hypnotist tells me, “when my little friends start to probe you, you’ll feel the Most Amazing Orgasm of All Creation, right here, right in your own pussy.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” I gasp.

More stroking.  Ohhhhhhh, it feels good, so good.  Don’t stop, Kendrick, don’t fucking stop.

“Yes… what?” asks Kendrick.

“Yes master!” I blurt out.  “ ** _Master!_**   Yes!”  Don’t stop, master, don’t stop, don’t stop.

I hear Kendrick chuckle.  “Good,” he murmurs.

Somehow I sense it as he lifts his arm a little, changing the angle.  I squeeze the bed harder, both dreading and desperately crazy for what happens next.

And then… three of those huge penises push inside me, just a little.  Just inside my pussy, but outside my canal.  They are greeted by a grateful ocean of wetness.

I cry out, my mouth wide open, my eyes screwed tightly shut.

The penises withdraw, push back in, withdraw, back in, out, in, out, in out in out in OUT IN OUT IN **_OUT IN OUT IN OUT IN OH MY GOD!  THEY’RE GOING SO FAST!  FUCK YEAH!!!  OHHHHHHHH!!!!_**

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh…!!!” I cry, unable to help myself.

I hang on, delighted at being hammered by three magical cocks, all bucking together!  My pussy coats them with cum juice like it is paint.  Although I can barely move, I lean back, trying to get fucked a little harder, a little more, Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God…!!!

Oh…!

And then, like a light bursting through complete darkness, I feel it.

**_It._ **

The hypnotic orgasm.

…

I…

I feel my body tense and tremble.  My legs kick frantically from the knees down, pummeling the mattress.  My hands grip harder, possibly risking my bones.  My back is popping with sweat.  My neck bucks, tossing my neck in all different directions.  I’ve lost control.

At the same time…

My mind soars.  In an instant, I see my spirit fly into the universe, across space and time and oh my god none of this makes any sense my vagina has just been kissed the Goddess of Orgasms and I think I may be in love oh wow oh I’ll never be so happy again.

I’ll never be so happy again, I swear it.

******

It is thirty minutes later… although I feel as if I’ve been under this magic for a lifetime.  Kendrick and I are nude, lying on his bed, our limp bodies wrapped together.  The sex is over.  We are stinky with each other’s fluids on our skin.  And we are happy but silent, studying the moon beautifully framed in his skylight.  He absently plays with one of my breasts.

I glance down at that hand, making sure, yet again, that it is populated with **_fingers_**.  Not genitalia.  Fingers.

I sigh.  So weird to be fucked by finger-penises.  I still can’t wrap my mind around it.

So I let my thoughts drift.  I don’t think Kendrick is my master anymore.  In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m no longer hypnotized.  But I’m not sure.

You know what?  I don’t care.  I may still be under his sway.  Or not.  I’ve just had the best fucking sex of my life.  I’ll never be able to express this to another human being, no way.  But I know this: I never want to leave this bed.

I sigh happily.  I’m not making any sense, not even to myself.  That’s how you know you got your brains fucked out.

Kendrick cranes his neck to look at me.  “What are you thinking?” he asks.

Strangely, I don’t know how to answer his question.  “I’m…” I say, then lapse.

“What?”

I suddenly think about that chick in Starbucks, the one who got me started on the whole hypnosex journey.  What was Tina’s boyfriend’s name… Was it Kendrick?  I can’t remember.

“Have you ever hypnotized a girl named Tina?” I ask.

“I’ve hypnotized lots of girls,” Kendrick says.  “Lots of people, I mean.  I don’t ask everyone’s name.”

“Have you hypnotized and fucked a girl named Tina?” I revise.

Kendrick frowns.  “I don’t think so,” he answers.  “Why?”

I tell him about the Starbucks conversation.

“Tina…” the hypnotist thinks.  “I think I’d remember that name.”

“Well, if that was you,” I sigh, snuggling closer on Kendrick’s chest, “you’ve really gotten into that girl’s head.  She loooooooooves the hypnotic orgasms.”

Kendrick doesn’t reply.  His fingers keep making love to my breast.

“How did you do it?” I murmur.

Kendrick looks at me again.  His eyebrows say, “ ** _?_** ”

“You hypnotized me, in front of my friends,” I say.  “And then you hypno’ed me again, on the street.”  I sigh again.  “And now I’m totally in your spell and I totally love you and want to be your slave forever.”

As I talk, my fingers find Kendrick’s retracted penis.  Its sticky.  I gently begin playing with his tip.

“You opened your mind to me,” relies Kendrick.

“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” I say.  “Everything I read and everything the experts told me said that you couldn’t be seduced with hypnotism.”  I kiss his taught chest, once.  “But here I am, under your thrall, happy to do whatever you command me to do.”

Maybe I still am hypnotized?  Or… maybe I’m just greedy for my next hypnosis-induced MegaOrgasm?  I’m so happy and light-headed, I don’t care which is true.

“Normally, what you say is right,” Kendrick tells me, his voice lazy.  “I could hypnotize a hundred women, and not one of them would suck my dick if I commanded them to.  But you are a special case.”

“Oh?” I say, looking down at my fingers coaxing Kendrick’s still-sleeping penis.

“You spend all that time trying to figure out how hypnotism could get a woman into bed,” Kendrick explains.  “It never occurred to you that you wanted to be seduced in that way.”

“I never wanted to be… hypnotized into sex,” I frown.

“Yes, you did,” Kendrick chuckles, then kisses my forehead.  “You didn’t actually volunteer to become a sex slave.  But secretly, you wanted to.”

“What?” I retort.  I drop his penis.  I’m less charmed now.

“Look, you’re a reporter, right?” the hypnotist says.  “You want to understand how and why things work, so you can explain it to your readers.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, let me tell you a few things about hypnosis and how it works.  First, everyone has a varying degree of curiosity about hypnotism.  In my experience, most people are afraid of it and don’t want to know about it in the slightest.”

“Right,” I agree.

“But there are a number of people – like you – who are curious because they want something from hypnosis.  You read up on the hypnotic orgasm, and bam!  You were hooked.”

I consider Kendrick’s words.

“You’re saying… I **_wanted_** to become your hypnotized bimbo because I heard about these super orgasms?” I say, skeptical.

“Mmm,” muses Kendrick, “well, not exactly.  No.  I am saying your mind was open to being hypnotized for sex because you wanted to try the hypno-orgasm.  Otherwise, your subconscious would have resisted everything I told you to do.”

“I don’t buy it,” I argue.  “It sounds too…  Well, fake.”

“No?” smiles Kendrick.  “You want me to prove it to you?”

I don’t respond.  I’m not sure what I should say here.

“Look at me,” the hypnotist says firmly.

I look up into his eyes.  My muscles begin to relax, to let go.  Kendrick is using hypnosis on me.

“Wait,” I say.  “What are you-“

“You’ll like this,” he assures me.  “Keep your eyes locked on mine.”

I frown a little, but don’t resist.

“Now,” says the hypnotist, “I’ll give you a direct sexual suggestion, while you’re awake.  If your subconscious likes it, you’ll feel it become a reality.  If you **_don’t_** , then nothing will happen.  Fair enough?”

I have a feeling I’m being bamboozled, but suddenly… I dunno, I feel myself losing control again.  Just a little.

“Okay,” I mumble.

“Here’s what will happen,” Kendrick explains, gazing deep into my eyes.  “I’ll give you this suggestion.  If you accept it, you’ll be rewarded, and then you’ll drop back into a deep, deep hypnotic sleep.  You won’t be able to resist.  Do you understand?”

No.

“Yes,” I murmur.

“What’s more,” Kendrick promises, “when you next awake, your mind will be clear.  You’ll know what you want most in this world.  And you’ll have the power to take it.”

That sounds nice.  I don’t believe it for a second… but it sounds nice.

One of Kendrick’s hands is still cupped around my boob.  The other makes a gesture down towards our feet.

“There,” he announces.  “I’m just put a caterpillar on your knee.”

“What?” I frown.  “Bullshit.”

“No shit,” Kendrick assures me.  “Its quite light to the touch, but there is a big, fuzzy, golden caterpillar on your knee, right now.”

 ** _This_** is his hypnosis suggestion?  A bug?

I frown deeper.

“Its big and fuzzy and gold and weighs nothing at all,” describes Kendrick.  “Oh, and its made of magic, sexual magic.  Intense, powerful, sexual magic.”

As he speaks, Kendrick squeezes my nipple once.  Then his hand slide down my back and begin fondling my ass.  In the way that excites me.

But this caterpillar thing…  I’m a little insulted he would choose such a childlike idea.  There’s no fucking caterpillar here.

“There **_is_** a magic caterpillar on your knee,” Kendrick says, as if directly reading my thoughts.  “Its golden and magical and weighs nothing at all and its crawling up your knee right now.  Feel it?  Feel that special energy?”

I…

Wait.

Holy shit, there is something on my knee!  Something faint, just a touch of warmth!  How can that…

I try to look down, but Kendrick is ready.  He gently but firmly grabs my chin.  “Only look into my eyes,” he tells me.  “The caterpillar is real, but it is not.  Golden and energy and warm and sexual and weightless and just tickling your knee.  Look only at me.”

His fingers work my ass, and I feel my body relax against his.  His eyes are hypnotic, I’ll give him that.  He definitely chose the right profession.

“Golden and weightless and sexual and oh so good and fuzzy and warm,” says Kendrick, his voice growing softer and continuous.  “You’re relaxing, Susan.  So golden and warm and sexual and fuzzy and magic and weightless…”

I’m swimming in his gaze now.  My arms and legs are heavy.  I can’t move my head.

As Kendrick talks, the caterpillar, made of golden light and sexual energy, crawls up my knee and onto my leg.  I sigh a little.  I can clearly see it in my mind.  The caterpillar is female, I know that.  She’s not really a caterpillar, she just **_looks_** like one.  Warm and delightful and tingly and so good and…

I blink, slowly.  Its hard to keep my eyes open.  I’m going back into Kendrick’s hypnosis, I know that now, and I can’t resist it.  The golden energy is crawling up my leg, moving between both thighs.  My body is limp, but quivering with anticipation.

“You feel it, right?” Kendrick says, smiling.  He continues describing what is happening, and as the golden energy reaches the top of my inner thigh, I know what will happen next.

My eyes sag shut.  In my mind, I see the golden energy, fuzzy and tingly, just over my crotch.  My vagina is literally glowing as a welcoming, yellow beacon.

“And you will cum… **_now_** ,” Kendrick’s voice says to me.

His fingers touch my bush, lightly.

Instantly, the gold energy sinks into my vagina, and the caterpillar blooms into a white butterfly.  I whimper in joy as the butterfly becomes two, than four, then eight, then a thousand white butterflies, all kissing me and fluttering about the universe.  Oh, it is… **_wonderful_**.

I am having my second orgasm, but this one is so much different than the first.  This one is gentle, but more powerful.  I feel my vagina cum, and it is like a soothing, refreshing bath that cleanses the core of my body and soul.  Delightful.  I can see myself, naked, surrounded by white sparkles that dance about me.  It’s a strange high that steals your reason at the same time it makes to see and think clearly.

I sigh with complete happiness.

And then… as the orgasm fades… I feel my body relax deeply against Kendrick, back in the real world.  I tumble into deep, deep hypnosis.

As my thoughts slowly fade, I suddenly realize… I realize what I have to do.  When I next wake up, things will be different.

******


	5. Epilogue

***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves women becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

 

 

**_One year later._ **

I check on the ham, which is nearly done?  I’m not sure.  The packaging said to bake for three hours, and its been that.  But it doesn’t look any different.  The fuck?

“You almost ready?” Kendrick asks, quickly checking to make sure the silverware he’s laying out on the table is clean.

“I think so,” I reply, but I’m not confident.

Our friends will be here less than an hour.  We’re gathering to celebrate two things: obviously, the fact that Kendrick and I are moved in together.  But also for Becky and Hans; they’re officially pregnant.

I smile to myself.  Not that long ago, I would have simmering with jealously at Becky’s little bun in the oven.  Now… now I’m happy for her.  Its what she wants.

Besides, things have turned around for me, too.  I don’t write anymore, which is definitely a welcome change.  Shelia was disappointed to lose me, but that’s life, baby.  I **_just couldn’t write_** another article about modern American women and how they are disappointed when their sex lives can’t square with the world they’re living in.

As a reporter, I used to describe other women’s sex issues.  Now, in my new career, I am helping women overcome their sex problems.

******

Our friends are gathered at the table, listening to Lou and Marion regale us about their trip to Malaysia.  Man, those two get on a plane, what, every three months?  They’ve traveled to more countries than I have fingers and toes.  I’m mildly envious.

I snuggle into Kendrick, who has made room for me on his chair.  He wraps an arm around me.  Our fingers meet and intertwine.  Everyone’s wine glass is full, and the dishes can wait until later.  I’m enjoying the moment.

“And what about you, Susan?” Becky asks me, rubbing her belly.  “How’s the new job?”

I smile, and shrug.  “I love it,” I admit.  “Although I’m just starting out.”

“Its weird,” Stu tells me, shaking his head.

I see Julio’s brow wrinkle with confusion.  “I’m a hypnotherapist now,” I explain.  “I did some graduate Psych work, got certified, and now I work downtown at the Mothing Center.  Specifically with women who have sexual issues.  It’s a budding new area of therapy.”

“Wait a minute…” Julio says suspiciously, putting it all together.  “Last year, we did dinner at Hans and Becky’s, and Kendrick-“

“Yes, yes,” I nod, embarrassed.  “Kendrick hypnotized me in front of all of you guys.  And then he and I hooked up.  And then I began studying hypnosis for myself.”

I snuggle closer to my boyfriend.  “I found a good teacher.”

Julio cocks his head to one side.  “Waitaminute,” he says.  “ ** _He_** hypnotized **_you_** , and **_then_** you two started dating…?”  His unspoken question hangs in the air.

“Shut up,” I playfully reply.

Of course, what my boyfriend and I do in the bedroom, well, that’s our business.

“To tell you the truth, Julio,” Kendrick says, “I think she put a spell on me.”

Our friends laugh.

******


End file.
